The Haarskeerder

    We have loads of these every summer, as soon as the first rains have come, and normally Pio deals with them, as I shrivel up and have a heart attack in the corner. But ... he was away. I was tucked up in bed watching TV, Cady in bed beside me and Kita on her bed at the foot.

    I suddenly saw movement out the corner of my eye, and realised a bloody haarskeerder was slowly climbing the wall towards the window. They don't choose to climb, as from what I've seen, they can only climb using their front two icky legs, dragging their big fat bodies behind them. 

    My heart stopped. I was alone, with no man to protect me.

   Bear in mind, I tackle four meter pythons and warthogs with no second though. But these things make me go cold. 

    I didn't see a slop anywhere in sight, so bolted off my bed to find one. On return, he fell off the wall and was heading for the corner by Pio's bedside table. I tried to hit him with the slop, but even on this close encounter, I screamed like a polecat and jumped up and down on the bed with revulsion and a pounding heart.

    These things are incredibly fast. They move like lightning on speed. 

    He disappeared under the bed. I stood there for a moment, contemplating. There would be no sleep for me tonight, unless he was dead. My bed is against the wall, he can climb, and I also have one of those bloody mattress covers that I am sure he could latch onto with his evil, creepy, sticky feet. My pepper spray was in Swakop. I'd probably kill myself with a ricochet if I brought the shotgun out. 

    Now, I know Doom doesn't kill these buggers, but I'm sure if I finished the can on him, it would do the trick enough to be able to plant him with a plakkie. 

    I headed for the kitchen. 

    On return, armed with the can of Doom, I picked up the torch and inspected my bedroom with wide eyes. He had to be here somewhere. Which meant I had to look under the bed. The bedroom is really badly lit, hence the torch. 

    I crouched down, using the torch to look under the bed, Doom at the ready, to see if I could spot him hiding in a corner. 

    It was then I felt something on my arm. 

    I'm sure I had a heart attack. 

    The bastard was stuck to my arm, obviously having run up me. I was stupidly wearing long pyjama pants and a t-shirt, giving him ample grip - until he hit my arm. 

    I shrieked like an eight-year-old girl and started jumping around like a gymnast on speed. The doom went flying, hit the floor, and the plastic top broke into pieces. The torch went in the other direction. I slapped him frantically, suffering a nip in the process, but got him off me. I was still screaming. 

    The bugger came at me again, those legs working like a steam train. I continued screaming and ran into the bathroom. He followed, running for my feet. I did something that looked like a cross between a rain dance and an epileptic fit, and launched myself into the bath. 

    He scuttled around the edges of the bath, while I stood there, heart pounding, with nothing to hit him with. He disappeared back into the bedroom. I remained in the bath, contemplating my next move. There was none, really. My Doom can was in pieces and I had no other weapons. 

    I gingerly exited the bath and approached my bedroom. Our bath is particularly tiny - I don't really fit in it (when I met the woman that built the house, I realised why. She's a midget.) so that wasn't an option to sleep in, although I did consider it. 

     I phoned Pio, shrieking down the phone at him. He laughed at me. "They can't bite," he said. Bull. They bloody do. 

    I retrieved the can of Doom and the pieces of its top, and managed to squish one part of the top back on enough to make it spray in a general direction of where I wanted to. I sprayed everything. 

    He didn't reappear. The dogs were looking at me like I was insane.

    I mean, our house is dark. Four years later and I still haven't fixed the lights properly. This was my idea of hell. 

    I tried lying on the bed, my only vantage point to view the entire room from on high, pushing my feet against the wall to try and move it into the middle of the room. It didn't budge. Its rather large. That meant I had to put my feet on the ground and move the thing away from the wall, hopefully giving this spawn of the devil less accessibility. 

    I had to put my feet back on the ground to move it. I then decided to change from long pyjama bottoms to shorts, which I did. But then, I'd left them lying on the side of the bath. I spent another ten minutes shaking everything out, and once sure that there was nothing in them, I put them on. I then inspected myself in the mirror, wandering if he was on me again - but this was difficult as I was eyeing the floor to see if he would come at me again. 

    Bed in the middle of the room, I sat there, looking around me for another half an hour. Jessie, my killer dog, had decided that outside was best this evening, and wouldn't come inside. Cady and Kita had watched my antics with amusement, and had done nothing when the bloody thing practically ran over them. 

    He never reappeared. Which means he's still in the house. I slept with the light on, and my broken Doom, a torch, and two plakkies next to me. I freaked every time a bug flew into me, looking for light. And now, in the rather hot light of day, I'm still too scared to sit with my feet on the ground or move to clean in case he reappears ... 

Plot Life - Me and My Bike Again

    It was just the other day, where I was out there again on my own. I was bundu-bashing for a reason this time. I was also having trouble walking or I would have gone on foot, because I'd recently fallen over and sprained my ankle so badly, it took over six months to heal and still niggles me. 

    Bear had come home head held high, the previous day, with a butchered kudu leg in his mouth. I was horrified. These assholes were poaching on my plot again, and I was in a royal rage. I'd found snares on the plot before, for kudu and warthog. I hated it. 

    So, with this in mind, and a wonky ankle, I had taken the bike and gone looking for snares or a butchered kudu. I was proper bundu-bashing, off the road, wherever I could go. Right on front of the house, just over the road we were industriously building, there is yet again a steep downhill into a valley. Bear had come from that general area, but it was really rough, so I was struggling on the bike. 

    I'd gone off our little bike road to the right, and had investigated as much as I could. I'd walked a few steps, as far as possible, to see if I could smell or spot anything. I then had to make my way back to the very steep, slippery road, to head further down. 

    Of course, I got to a very rough spot, and decided that instead of tackling it on the bike, what I would do is walk next to it, and just clutch in so it would roll forward.  I would be out of the way if it flipped, and not break myself again. 

    I got over the first part. I then got semi-stuck under a tree, as usual, but managed to get out of it successfully. We were almost at the road, and I thought right, I just need a few more steps and I would be able to get back on and take it down. 

    Well, I clutched in and it rolled down the incline. I let the clutch go, thinking it would stop, but by this time it was already on the mess of small rocks and on the bad incline. The wheels locked and it slid. With eyes nearly falling out of my head, I just stood there and watched it. I had learnt my lesson, and wasn't about to go try grab it, as I probably would have done previously. 

    It stopped about two meters down, but now it was off the road on the opposite side. With my nerves on edge, I tried again to clutch it and turn the wheels back to the road. Well - bad move. This time, I sat down and watched it as it slid down the rest of the mountain, gaining speed, and hit a tree. Always a damn tree. 

    I sat there for a while longer, eyeing this situation out. I had no signal on my phone, my ankle was sore already from walking, and I was no closer to finding the bloody kudu.

    Eventually, I slid down the hill myself, and looked at the situation up close. We have very small trees on the plot, due to lack of water and rocky conditions. The bike had slid straight into one of the bigger ones, that had found less rocky soil, and was close to the "riverbed" at the bottom in the valley. It was deeply immersed in the evergreen branches, while all the other trees around it were dead and had no leaves. 

    Fighting off branches and tickling leaves, I got on, and tried to reverse it out - no luck, it just spun. I tried slow and steady, and then just planted it, kicking up loads of dust and stones. No luck. I sighed. Seriously. Always a tree. I tried picking up the back and shifting it, but it was so deep in the tree, I expected that more turning would have it rolling down the mountain again. I gave up. 

    I made my way back up the mountain on foot, losing my footing once and landing hard on my knee. I brushed off and kept going, looking for signal. I got hold of Pio, and then sat waiting, trying to find my dogs and bring them back together. Bless them, they'd watched all of this with cocked heads and a laugh in their eyes, before buggering off to sniff things.

    It took Pio ages to come rescue me. I wandered around, trying again to spot the poor kudu. I fell over again, not fully twisting the bloody ankle but twinging it. I eventually gave up, sat under a tree nursing my wounds, and waited. Kita sat with me, bless her. 

    When he eventually got to us, it took some tugging and wangling, trimming the tree back slightly, and then he got it out. Typical. I hated needing a mans help, as I always got laughed at. 

    He took it back up the mountain, and I had to walk, on wonky foot and knee. More bruises and scratches to add to my collection. 

Plot Life - Me and My Bike

    So, when we moved out here, we brought the bikes with us. Prior to that, I had only really ridden my quad on the beach in Swakop, and not ever in Windhoek. The beach is very different to the mountains that we have here on the plot. 

    Nevertheless, it was great. We often went bundu-bashing with them, up and down the mountains, creating little roads for ourselves so we could check fences and walk the dogs. I frequently got myself into kak on the bike, as I explored alone often. There's no signal at the back of the mountain, so when I got stuck there, I had no choice but to get myself out, in whatever way I could. 

    With the first run-in with the warthogs, they charged me. At that point, I knew better than to get off my  bike, and had ben trying to fend the dogs off of them with the bike itself. When they turned on me, I had to pick my legs up, whilst still trying to control the damn bike, and planted it into a tree. Thereafter the episode happened, resulting in me being bitten by the piggy, and I had to climb the mountain on foot to find signal and get Pio to come help me. 

     There was the other time, bundu-bashing in my own, where I got stuck in a ditch. I couldn't reverse as wheels just spun and as usual, the front of the bike was stuck in a tree - my signature move. I couldn't call Pio, as I think he was away - or I was just determined to do it myself. I tried picking the thing up. Bear in mind, this is a big Yamaha 350. I can barely get it off the ground, and can only shift it a couple of centimetres at a time. 

    I shift, packed rocks under the tyres, and got myself out, with great pride. 

    The worst that I ever did, happened the day before I flew to England to see my family. We normally did a roundabout circut, up to the top of the hill past the old ruins, swung to the left and went down to the bottom. We then would head along the fence line to the dar right corner of the plot, pause on that little hill so the dogs could run and sniff. We would then head down through the river and up a very steep mountain to the top, back long the top of the mountain and down past the ruins home again. 

    For some strange reason, on this very steep hill at the back of the mountain, Pio's bike failed and wouldn't start. Navigating up this mountain is hectic and not for the faint-hearted. There are big rocks, as well as millions of small ones, and over time, we'd worn a road. On this road, you had to really gun it because all the grip had been worn away and the bikes slipped and slid out on the small rocks. The nose often picked up as well on the incline, and you had to lean forward, dodging trees and heaven only knows what else at the same time. 

    I was sitting at the top of the mountain, waiting for him. Eventually, when he didn't come, I headed back down to see what was going on. 

    I was over-confident. I thought I knew my bike. 

    Reality check, incoming. 

    As I got to him, he was sitting in the middle of the road on a particularly steep bit. I had to turn, so took the first opportunity I could and swung the bike left to point the back of it at him. I was figuring I could just reverse, then head straight back up, starting on the grass that gave me grip, so I could get up enough speed to clear the mountain. 

    It all happened in slow motion. The bike began to tip to the right, and Pio screamed at me to get off. 

     I jumped, but as the bike was already tipping, I couldn't get off the high side and had to go into its path. How I managed it, I don't know. I was off and out of its way, as it slowly tipped over and rolled down the mountain, side over side. 

    I sprained my ankle in the process, slipping on a rock, and was almost in tears with pain, watching my poor bike do some bundu-bashing of its own. Pio, between laughing, told me, "You NEVER turn on a mountain!" Apparently this was logic - I didn't know that. everyone had always said, "You can't roll a quad." I took that quite literally apparently. 

    We then had to slide down the mountain ourselves and get the bike back on all fours, wonky ankle and all. We limped home, my nerves in tatters. From riding in Swakop in the dunes, we'd seen and heard many horror stories of people going up the dunes and falling backwards due to the incline. The bike would then fall on them, and with that weight, do serious damage. Guys had broken backs and necks in the dunes. 

    It was my first reality check with the bike. It also took months for me to be able to navigate any sort of incline on the bike again, and I still have a niggle in the back of my head when the going gets steep or I'm sideways on an incline. 

Plot Life - The Road

    "Well," they said, "you'll never be able to afford living on a plot."

    "I'll make a plan," was my response.

    And boy, did we. 

    At first, we enjoyed the dirt road, in all its glory, that most people were afraid to tackle without 4x4. I drove Beasty at that time, a beat up old Toyota 2.7 petrol manual double cab. And wow, did she have a suspension that could carry the world. However, there came a point when I said to Pio, "If I have to carry on driving this thing, you're going to have to cough up for a boob job."

    He laughed at me. I ad to say it a couple of times, eventually saying, "If this road isn't fixed, I'm getting a boob job!" 

    So we started working on the road. We're a good six or eight kilometres from the main tar road, and the grader, although its a public access road, doesn't grade past our gate. Buggers. I still need to take up that fight with them, actually. 

    But never mind, onwards and upwards, I would do it myself. By this time I had acquired a new double cab 4x4, with much softer suspension, and as it was automatic, I could drive with one hand and clutch my poor boobs with the other. But then, I began to feel for the poor thing, as I floored it up and over the mountains, with scant regard for it, but just wanting to get past the worst of the road. 

    James, our darling builder, and Wilbard, my lovely fix-it-all guy that had been with me for years, started tackling the road. At first, we dug out sand from our mountain top, and drive it down the road, filling holes and levelling.  

    One day, in old Beasty, I had a good ton of sand on the back, and four guys in the car with me, that had been recruited from the plots around us to help with the road. As we were coming off the top of the mountain, around a sharp corner that led to an even steeper downhill, with practically a cliff on the right, the bakkie slid out. 

    I hit the brakes, that were pretty much non-existent at best, but hey, what could you do. Beasty carried on going, straight off the road and down this very steel hill, that to this day gives people the heebies as a driver or passenger. 

    The four black guys, in the back of the double cab and in the passenger seat, literally turned a pasty shade of grey. They began to shriek in panic, throwing open the doors and preparing to jump. I jsut sat on the brakes and prayed.

    We slid about two meters down this hill. The guys bailed - and only poor Wilbard has gotten in a car with me since.

    Eventually, Beasty stopped. I kept my foot on the brake, and tightened the handbrake, which also never really worked. At that point, with kak brakes and an even kakker handbrake, and the guys shrieking and awwing, I managed to get Beasty into 4x4, then low range, then into reverse, and to start backing up - all without stalling. 

    Thank goodness the old thing is as strong as an Ironman. I got her out. Slowly, but I did. 

    We all stood around and shook for a bit, then headed down the road. The guys walked. 

    Anyway. After our decision to start fixing this lethal road, we did a lot of research. I wanted to do solid concrete blocks of about two meters square, straight down the road. Pio moaned at me. Too expensive. Takes too long. We have to buy concrete hardener as well, as because with the terrain, there was no way to drive around the road we had thrown, while waiting for it to dry. Plotted and planned, and eventually started. 

    We decided to do two strips of road, one for each tyre. We measured out chassis's on the cars, from a small car to a truck, and went for something in the middle. But sod that, anyway, I thought to myself, and gave the instruction to pave in between the two tracks as well. This later did me good, as I kept falling off the two tracks before the paving, and cringed at the cost of the tyres I was damaging. 

    James, my darling James, went ahead like a steam train. We made moulds for the straight sections, and used bendy steel (don't ask me what its called) to create the placing for the corners. This way we would have a beautiful road, nicely laid out, and perfect. My OCD does not like imperfections. 

    Well. We came to the first straight, and it was particularly busy at work. Now, James is brilliant, but he needs guidance, and I just didn't get there. By the time they'd thrown a good fifty meters of road and I could drive on it, I realised it was about five centimetres higher than it should be. Therefore, one strip would me higher than the other. 

    My fragile temper cracked. I threw my toys out of the cot. James drives, so at one point I remember asking him at what point has he driven on a road like this? Poor guy. It was too expensive, however, to rip up and do again. 

    Now, whenever I drive it, my poor car hanging to the right, I have to laugh. I also then contemplate how long its going to be before I do get them to rip it out and do it again. 

Write Write Write

    So, in 2013, Frankie introduced me to All About Writing, and I did the Creative Writing Course. It took a few months if I remember correctly, and was great fun - after the panic of criticism had subsided. The mentors were lovely; gently critical and full of advice and explanations, and giving credit where credit was due. They built our confidence as we went. 

    Then, I decided to join the mentoring. I'd written a lot from a young age, but never tried to publish - apart from submitting a disaster to Pan Macmillan in 2011. I can clearly see now why they never read it :). With the mentoring, we submitted a word count each month, and our delightful mentors critted and advised. 

    The first book I worked through with them was the story of Aiden, a young druggie whose girlfriend dumped two kinds on him and disappeared. The story of his youth suddenly taken away, his reform, and growing to love these two little girls as his own, grew massively as we worked through it. It changed multiple times. Then, the girlfriend re-appears and takes his girls from him, and how his life falls apart again. 

    It took me almost three years to work through this one, as we navigated legalities, opinions, characters, and disasters. It was wonderful - although by almost the end of the second draft, I was so gatvol of it, I wanted to throw it in the bin. I persevered, and finished it. I still feel I want to throw it in the bin - but I think that this comes from TOO MUCH of it. Too much reading, writing, and editing of the same thing and characters. I got bored of the, basically.

    But to explain the trials and tribulations of writing and being criticised ... not easy. Frankie and I would read the feedback and rant. How dare they say I must remove that - it's an integral part of the book (how Aiden went out, got smashed, and crashed his truck). Devastation, and then the slow realisation that it really didn't take the story forward. 

    How DARE they not like that beautiful sentence ... so much time was taken with it. So much feeling. And then again, the realisation that it was pretty pointless, and I'd phrased the same thing slightly differently in another paragraph earlier or later on.

    Then, with time, we learned to see what they saw. And we loved it. We couldn't wait for our feedback, or for comments from the other mentees on the group. It was fabulous - my fix, after a coffee and a cigarette. 

    I shelved it after the end of the second draft. 

    Then, out of the blue, one of my mentors emailed me and said she had referred me and a couple of others to Jacana, who were looking for new, South African writers with potential. Panic stations. Totally. 

    I waited and waited, and eventually they contacted me. After having my nerves calm slightly with the wait, panic rose again. I still struggle to talk about my work, and generally avoid it. If someone asks me about it, I say, "Read it." Only in the last two weeks did I actually tell someone what it was about, in a single sentence ... and then redirected the conversation sharply lol. So what would I do with a publisher that needed to know the deeper aspects of the book? 

    Well, in short, we set up a Skype, and then they had a work emergency and couldn't do it that day :(. What a let down .... 

    But, if its meant to be it will be. I'll wait. If I find somewhere else that I fancy submitting to, I will. If not, then I won't. I'm not in a hurry. Aiden can sit on the shelf for a time, until I'm ready to do a third draft. Life happens when its meant to. 

    And for the moment, I have yet another book written while I was a teenager (for many reasons, I stopped writing. Creativity dried up.) and will continue with that one. I have submitted the first three chapters already, and have gotten positive feedback from my mentors and fellow writers, so it has hope.

    And for the moment, I'll just WRITE. With no pressure and no expectations, but just for the joy of it. 

2016

    So the end of the year and the beginning of the new one hasn't been great. We took a quick ten days down to Henties in the middle of December with all the furkids, and had a good time apart from the drama that they caused :) we weren't really able to leave them alone often and Kita and Ciara had their first fight where they drew blood. 

    Apart from that we chilled a bit and then still worked through. We came back to Windhoek to have Pio's gran arrive and still had Angelique with us, but she popped off to house sit on the 23rd. I then spent Christmas Eve cooking, cleaning and wrapping presents, only to discover that Arende in Henties charged me for 2 lights and only gave me one. I tried calling them and they just don't get back to me. What great service. 

    Christmas Day we spent with Vicky and Tiaan which was nice, I enjoyed it. We had a champagne breakfast, opened presents, and lay in the pool. Late afternoon we have a big lunch and then headed home about 7 to feed dogs and all that. 

    The Sunday sadly Kita and Ciara got into a major fight and nothing could break them up. It was the final straw and the realisation that this situation won't work. Monday we had to go to the vet and have Kiki stitched up and Kita doctored. From there came the decision that it was time to look for another home for her. I cried for a week. 

    NYE we had to go back to the vet as Kiki was shaking her head alot and I thought she had a bladder infection. Natasha at Windhoek Vet saw her and remembered her so told me the history that she knew as well as I ran into Ockie's niece who told me what she knew. 

    I then did some advertising, and now we have found a home for her and have started the integration. It is with another male Akita, so I am worried, but there seems to be ease and no aggression. We will meet again this afternoon and see what happens again, and then another few times during the week. If Kiki seems happy with them then she will have a sleep over on Saturday night, and that is when I will have to learn to let go. 

    I have also worked most of this week so I haven't really had a break and the stress of everything happening has caused fights, issues, and all over drama. It hasn't been a good start to the year and losing Kiki is going to be bad. 

    It's also going to be one hell of a year I think, so time to get back into routine and also do a serious detox. I need to lose some weight and do some exercise and take some vitamins. See if I can get everything back on track. 

    Here's to 2016! 

Musing the day away ...

On my writing course, we were told to write a page a day, of "free writing", anything that happens to pop into your mind. Apparently it gets the creative juices flowing and teaches you to write easily. So as I don't do it regularly and am actually bored right now, I thought I would give it a go. 

This morning I read through all my old assignments from the AAW Creative Writing Course, and some of the stuff is actually quite good - some not so great though, mind you. It shows how much we've learnt from the course and a year of mentoring with Richard and Jo-Anne. It's been a great year and I've enjoyed it hugely. But now, my mentoring is taking so long and I'm ahead and now just have to submit, I'm looking for other projects to work on. 

Problem is, I can't come up with an idea. It SUX. I love writing and would happily do it every day if I could, but it seems I can't. Maybe this is writers block. I have a story that I've been trying to work on but I can't get it off the ground. Nothing about it is flowing and it's pissing me off. I can't get the dialogue going, not sure what to write next, nothing. My characters are in a vacuum as I can't come up with things for them to do either. So I think it might be time to put it to bed until I can write it. Not sure when that'll be. 

This now means that I have nothing to keep me busy at the moment. I'm desperately looking for a project and am just not coming up with anything. I need ideas and don't know where to look for them. My brain has gone blank - how did I used to come up with reams and reams of stuff and now can't even put a story line together? Time to maybe brainstorm with J&R. 

Other than being frustrated with my writing, I haven't been doing much. Work is quiet and I'm enjoying pottering with things. I do what I need to and what comes up, but it's so quiet that this week especially I've had lots of free time and it's been great. Next week will be much busier so not looking forward to that. 

The plot is fine - we're happy out here and enjoying the peace and quiet. So much so actually that I never want to go to town any more and do my best to avoid it like the plague. When I do have to go I try get as much done as possible so that I don't have to go again for another week. 

The dogs are driving me mad. Cady and Coda are running away regularly and not coming back til six or seven the following morning. This means they're roaming for a full twelve hours at a time. I've actually gotten to the point where if they do get shot by some irate plotter for chasing his goats or buck, then it can't be helped and will make my life so much easier. I love them to bits but they refuse to listen and do what they like whilst Bear and Kita toe the line and have beautiful manners. It so isn't fair on them. 

Bear and Kita are fine though and have such beautiful manners. They're truly so special and I wish Cady and Coda could learn some manners from them. That'll teach me for taking on rescues and trying to save the world. It doesn't work. You can't unlearn bad habits and manners, no matter how hard you try. 

Work is fine as well. The business is busy and Pio working himself to death, whilst I twiddle my thumbs which isn't great for him at the moment, poor guy. But we're making money and it's going well. Touch wood it carries on :) we are really so blessed with our life at the moment and quite happy. It's all going well. 

I cut half my hair off, and might cut the rest of it off next month. I quite like the idea of a bob and white blonde all over, so that might happen. Pio will probably kill me as he doesn't like short hair, but I can always grow it again. I'll cut it short now and then grow it out again. Will have to take lots of vitamins and whatnot to get it to grow though. Amanda has suggested biotin so will look into that and see if it works. She's very clued up on all these products, bless her. 

Other than that, life is quiet. We're going to stay home tonight and do a poitjie which is going to be so nice - I have red wine and cream so it's going to be awesome. I'm already hungry so will have to have something for lunch soon. 

Better go and make the staff lunch now too, and maybe see if I can come up with something to get me to write before I die of boredom. I've even cleaned out my one cupboard this morning, for lack of better things to do.  

A Normal Day

I thought that I might write about a normal day. This was brought on by going through my old blogs on Sunday and reading about all the little things that I would normally have forgotten about - and did forget until I read it again. It was great to go through all those old memories, and so it has in turn prompted that I do a bit more blogging. Hopefully. I tend to not as can't think of things to write or am just too busy. 

But anyway. So today was a normal-ish day. Pio flew to Ondangwa yesterday to do a presentation for Click, after much argument with Marius as he backed out at the last minute, which resulted in Pio flying on Sunday and only returning Tuesday for a half hour slot. Ridiculous. I was so angry. 

Anyway, so last night I was alone on the plot, for the first time since I have been here. It wasn't that bad - I watched TV and fell asleep with the shotgun next to me, loaded and ready for bear! Not Bear, but a human trying to break in lol. I was of course fine and nothing happened. I didn't sleep well though, the dogs were really restless and up and down. Kita slept in front of the door waiting for her Daddy to come home and he didn't. She must have been really upset. 

Wilbard dragged me out of bed at 6:45 and I got going. I put the washing on, as I do every Monday, only to have Tresia text me and tell me that she is ill and isn't coming to work. This means that I am so busy and still have to do washing and clean the house. I did minimal cleaning - wiped counters down, packed the dishwasher and washed a few dishes. I also cleaned my desk as hate working in a mess. Other than that, I left it. It can wait until Wednesday. 

I started work at around 7 and cleaned in between til the kitchen was done. I then worked straight through til 4:30 with no lunch or breaks. Most of the day was spent on Click and trying to work out the inordinate amount of oddities and stupid things that keep happening - why can't people just pay the correct amount!! STUPID! 

I then did Embrace for the rest of the day and filled out Garvin's application for a phone that he wants on contract. Cheeky bugger gets so much out in a month with all his benefits. 

It was stinking hot from about 2pm and still is now after 5pm. I had the air cooler on but turned it off when I started cooking as it was nippy in here, but now after a few minutes of being off it's steaming in the igloos again. Might have to turn it back on. The flies are also terrible as my fly-trap has stopped working so have doomed everything in sight as there were about 40 of them sitting in the windows and now two are being particularly annoying as I try to drink a glass of wine and blog ... 

Well that's it for me. I am off to check on my dinner and then I will feed the dogs, eat, and watch some TV. I might write as I am going to fall behind on my mentoring if I don't catch up soon, but I am not sure I am in the right frame of mind to write properly. I might just chill after a hectic day with the fan on and something to drink. 

Anyway ... that's my normal day - apart from the fact that Pio comes home and works in the kitchen on his PC there in the afternoons and all evening, and then we walk the dogs at six on the bikes, over the mountain and around the plot. But, after the python, I am too scared to walk alone in case I run into something else just as dangerous and lose a dog.

Off to finish dinner and chill! Or write! 

Mevrou Mongoose

    It was time for another dog walk. Yes, the dogs get walked every day at around 6pm. Today was different. It was overcast and rainy, so we were walking earlier - something I should learn not to do as invariably something happens on these earlier walks! 

    I had put on a large t-shirt over my vest because it was still dripping and off we pottered on the bikes. We had just crested the first mountain and were free-wheeling down when the dogs predictably began to chase something small through the bush. As usual, shrieking at them did no bloody good whatsoever, and Coda, the evil little sod that he is, grabbed it and threw it into the air. 

    I managed to chase them off and find the little thing that they had been chasing - a little slender mongoose, obviously still a baby. They had hurt it as it was dragging its leg as it scurried through the bush, frantically trying to escape the dogs. I was gutted that they had again hurt a little animal. 

    I ripped off my t-shirt and together, Pio and I managed to catch it and once it was wrapped up in my shirt it calmed right down and stayed still. I put it in-between my legs on the quad bike and rode home whilst Pio walked the dogs on down the mountain. Cady and Kita followed me and forgot about their walk. 

    Back at home, I found a box to put it in and wrapped it in a towel. I took out some meat to feed it and by this time Pio was home with Bear and Coda. We inspected the little mite, and it showed great spirit, hissing and growling at us. 

    This was a great sign - the more spirit it showed the more likely it was to live. I gave it some mince and it ate very enthusiastically, which was another good sign. It was dragging its leg but looked fit and healthy otherwise. 

    I made the mistake of trying to get some water into the box. The feisty little thing growled and spat at me, but I had no choice other than to actually put my hand into the box to put the little container of water down. It launched at me and bit me on the finger, drawing blood. It was more of a scrape than an actual bite, but there was most definitely dripping blood and a plaster was required. 

    As we were off to dinner with Frankie and David down in the valley, I thought that I could take it along and ask David if he had any ideas for what I should do next. David is a big conservationist and works for the Wildlife Fund here in Nam. He travels a huge amount of the time and does game counts all over the country. Sadly - he was away, but Debbie was there. 

    We successfully identified it as a slender mongoose, which I hadn't known up until that point. I knew it was a mongoose but I hadn't known what kind. Debbie also said that it was very promising that the little thing would survive if it was eating and moving around. 

    But as the evening progressed the quieter and more sleepy the little creature became. He was also covered in lice that crawled over him and the towel. He moved into one position and lay there all evening, not even getting up to growl and spit at us when we poked into the box to check if he was OK. 

    Debbie also advised that I go for a rabies shot, as I had posted the question on Facebook and everyone said yes, I would need to get the shot as mongoose are natural carriers of rabies. Damn - what a mission. 

     The next morning, the little mongoose was sadly no longer with us and had gone off to the Happy Hunting Grounds. I was gutted and so angry with my dogs - why of why did they try to kill absolutely everything that moved? It meant again that I would never be able to have the menagerie that I so badly wanted of goats, piggies, meerkats, cats and dogs, all cohabiting happily. 

    I had to get over my little bout of misery and phone the doctor to ask about the rabies injections. They managed to push me in urgently and I had my first shot that morning, with follow ups required on Day 3, Day 7, Day 14 and so on. 

    Piet was visiting from SA and landed that afternoon after my first shot. He then came with me to the doc the following week on day 3 and day 7. It was when he was with me that the doctor came out to call me in - and instead of announcing my name, he called out, "Mevrou Mongoose..."

    He has since called me that on every occasion, and I have now been for my 6th shot, the 7th being in two weeks time. He really is a funny soul. I now have bruises and two lame arms with these endless shots. And yesterday I seemed to have my first side effects, coming down with a horrendous headache, being unbearably sleepy and feeling generally under the weather. I slept most of the afternoon. 

    So the memory of the gorgeous little mongoose will remain with us for some time yet. We wish that things had been different and that we had been able to save the little thing. We are gutted that he didn't make it and that our dogs are again to blame for the lack of wildlife in our area as they chase everything that moves. We would love to live harmoniously with the wildlife around us, but it would seem that it will never happen. 

    Maybe one day when the dogs are older they will calm this insane chasing of everything and we will be able to co-exist. 

The Python

    It was five-thirty and time to walk the dogs. Sigh … there are days that I really don’t feel like hopping on the bike and tearing around the mountain with four psychotic dogs who chase everything that so much as twitches a whisker.

    But oh well.

    “It’s time to walk the dogs, are you coming?” I asked Pio.

    “Nope, I’m working on NamScape.”

    Great, I would have to go alone – but wait, there was Pieter, my cousin from SA that was visiting.

    “Do you want to come with?” I asked him.

    “Ja sure,” he said, and off we pottered on the bikes up the mountain.

    We crested the first mountain and were sitting on the top waiting for the great galumphing Kita, way behind us. That dog gets fatter and lazier by the day, and no matter what you do, she goes at her own pace. Africa Time takes on a whole new meaning with her.

    We just spotted her coming over the top of the mountain and I was starting to free-wheel down the first stretch, which is quite steep, when Piet said to me:

    “Your dogs have got something – I can hear them.”

    “Shit! Not again.” Seriously, the poor pigs in this place kakked daily. And then of course there was the recent seven grand bill from Coda trying to take on a pig and coming off a sad second best.

    I hit the accelerator on the quad and screamed down the mountain, through the dip, up hill and down dale as fast as I could. I could now hear them barking. And – bloody Kita – after taking her sweet-ass time up the mountain she had now beaten me to the scene of the crime. The fatty could move when she wanted to.

    I skidded through the trees and down into the valley, narrowly missing being impaled on the bloody overgrown thorn trees that I hadn’t had time to cut back.

    I saw what was happening before I could stop the bike but couldn’t actually process it. It couldn’t be my dog, it had to be something else. But no – that was Cady’s striped fur and her long legs sticking out between the coiled rolls of the biggest python I had ever seen. Somehow, without actually knowing what a python really looks like, it had to be one.

    You hear stories of them taking dogs but you always think “Ja whatever. It would have to be seriously big to take a dog.”

    Cady was almost buckled in half and backwards at that. Her tongue was lolling out and her eyes were black and glazed. It had her so tight in its coils I thought she was already dead.

    I won’t forget that first sight of it and the following few seconds that it took me to get around the trees and to stop the bike before I launched off at the snake. What do you do with something that big? How do you stop it? How do I get it off her? My baby looked dead and I started screaming for Piet to hurry up and help me.

    I tried kicking it, but it had its mouth over her side and was biting in, coiled around her so tightly that my kicks did nothing. It was like kicking a rock – pure muscle coiled tightly and killing my dog. I saw its tail flip up as it rolled and grabbed it, pulling it backwards as hard as I could to uncoil it.

    It actually stopped biting Cady and I saw it’s jaw yawn wide with hectic teeth.

    I got a couple of coils off but Cady was lifeless and not moving. I screamed for Piet repeatedly, but this was his first time on a quad in a good few years and he was taking it slowly, not expecting this at all.

    When he got there, I was still screaming at him to help. He left his bike and ran. As he later put it, “I regressed to the stone age and used a good old rock to smack it in the head.”

    It took him throwing numerous rocks at it and me pulling on its tail like a mad thing for it to eventually give up and drop its prey. I don’t even remember how it happened, but I do remember Cady lolling on the ground, her eyes glazed and she was shaking like a leaf.

    I tried to hold her but she had been bent so far over backwards that I was terrified her spine was broken and she couldn’t walk. I was almost crying in panic. Piet continued to launch rocks at the python and chase it with a stick, shouting at the other dogs to get back as they moved closer to see what was going on.

    Cady struggled to her feet and tottered off, sitting under a tree. I have a new respect for this little bush mongrel that we picked up on the side of the road – she’s as tough as nails.

    The python lay in the bush, not moving. Piet and I didn’t know what to do – how could we leave it there? Tomorrow we would be back for another walk and the bastard would probably still be chilling waiting for the next innocent dog to walk by. Piet grabbed a long stick and started trying to chase it out the bush.

    The python decided that it was time to head into the trees and it picked itself up on its tail like it was nothing and curled onto a dead branch. By the time its head was around the branch, its tail was still on the ground and there was a six foot gap in-between. The thing was enormous.

    When it got itself up into the tree it lay there and chilled. Piet and I looked at each other – what to do?

    Phone Pio. I now had to get up the hill as we had no signal in the valley – and go right past the monster chilling in the tree.

    I darted past it and shot up the hill, waving my phone in the air like a lunatic until I got signal. I called him.

    “There’s a ten foot python and it almost ate Cady!” I shrieked down the phone.

    “Come fetch me, I’m going to shoot it.”

    I darted back down the hill, past the python, and asked Piet to watch it whilst I went to fetch Pio. I raced back up the hill on the bike, sliding around corners and spinning up the mountain.

    Pio was already half way up the hill with the shotgun over his shoulder – nothing harms his dogs. We turned the bike around on the narrow trail and I jumped on the back, heading back over the mountain and through the valley.

    He almost fell off the bike when he saw the monster lying on the branch.

    “We can’t shoot it – it’s too beautiful.”

    “I did tell you so,” I muttered. It may have almost killed my dog but I couldn’t shoot something that big.

    “Let’s call the snake guy.” I darted back up the hill until I found signal again and phoned Francois Theart, our local snake expert.

    “SMS me directions, I’m on my way,” he said.

    Piet and I stayed in the bush watching the titan of a snake whilst Pio raced home to meet Francois and his mate.

    Francois and Mike arrived in a stonking great Land Cruiser, taking on the mountain like it was nothing – however they still had about a kilometer to go on foot before getting to us down in the bush. We ferried them in on the quads and even they were awed by the size and condition of this great snake as it stretched it’s 3.5 meter length across two trees.

    Then began the battle to get it out the trees. We were surrounded by massive thorn trees and it was virtually impossible to get within reaching distance of the python.

    Pio raced back up to the Land Cruiser to get Mike’s tongs, which on arrival didn’t even fit around the snakes bulk. He then raced back home again to fetch a saw so that we could cut away the trees to get to it as the more we tried to catch it the more it curled up in the thorn trees, ripping its skin. Thorns were imbedded in its body from the lethal trees, and also in Mike and Francois as they tried to get close to it.

    Piet grabbed the saw and climbed in with great gusto, sawing branches left, right and center. Eventually, Mike had the tail in his hands and Francois the head, with a bleeding thorn tree in the middle.

    Needless to say, there is little left of that tree after Piet gold hold of it.

    The python decided to take a crap on Mike’s hands – apparently it’s a defense mechanism. Mike almost vomited, swearing like a trooper as he couldn’t let the tail go even if he’d wanted to.

    Francois ID’d the python as a boy by the length of the tail. He really is very clued up when it comes to snakes, and explained to us about the heat pits in the nose and how they build up lactic acid then strike.

    His hands were going numb and cramping as he gripped the snakes head in his hands, whilst it tried repeatedly to take a piece out of him.

    He also told us that snakes are deaf.

    It took a very long two hours to get the python out of the tree and into the duvet cover they had brought for it.

    Then began the long trek home, with five people, two quads, a giant snake and Cady, who had stuck to me like glue since the story began. She had refused to go home with the other dogs on one of Pio’s many trips up and down the mountain and had stayed by me, quivering in fear when she went near the spot that she had been grabbed. She has holes where the snake had bitten into her and was bleeding a little but otherwise seemed fine.

    We walked back up to the Land Cruiser in the pitch black, struggling to carry the snake, shotgun, backpack, saw, three torches and with Cady sticking so close she literally tripped me up with every step.

     All’s well that ends well – we got home, tired and filthy and full of holes from the thorn trees but thankful that our dogs were ok and the snake was safely on its way to a reserve nearby where it hopefully will live peacefully and never make it back to my plot!!!